6/2/10

He completes us.

Twelve years ago today, much to the horror of his sisters,we welcomed The Golden Boy into the world.

The words “It’s a boy!” were not uttered by the doctor, a nurse, or even my own husband; but by my SISTER who had cleverly sneaked into the O.R. smoother than warm brie on a piece of French bread.

We spent the first few years of his life convincing his sisters that painting his toenails and fingernails while he was sleeping just wasn’t done.When they tried to sneak him into daycare with makeup and a handkerchief on his head, his father said “Enough is enough!”

The next five years or so we spent searching for the hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches and various tools he would use to dismantle anything and everything he could get his hands on. However, adding three plastic containers full of oil to the green, plastic John Deere tractor in the driveway was a brilliant move on his part.I didn’t know that steam could actually come out of Tightwad’s ears.

I still remember fondly Bitchy’s loud screams as she would spy The Boy running through the sprinkler in the backyard wearing her two-piece bathing suit.If I remember correctly, this was a weekly occurrence.

And so, it was with great satisfaction that she informed us that the poop we had been cleaning up in the yard somewhat TOO frequently (thinking it belonged to the dogs) was in fact his.

Today, Golden Boy, I celebrate the joy you’ve brought into our lives.

And when I gaze into your eyes as you share your stories about the day, I catch my breath.For not only do I see a glimpse of the young man that you are becoming, I can also see my father’s kind and gentle ways mirrored in your soul.

This post cracked me up, because it was very reminiscint of my baby brother. He used to cry if he didn't get his nails painted when my mom and sister were painting theirs. We have a hilarious picture we took of him once in my sister's dress, complete with pantyhose (!) and makeup! That poor kid...

He, too, was a pro at taking apart everything and anything he could get his hands on. And, one of our favorite stories is when he handcuffed himself to the pool ladder, while my dad was at work, of course, so my mom had to call the police to come and get him out!!

Happy Birthday to you both! 12 is that last kid age for boys, before adolescence kicks in. I love the photo of him with the mower; I'd forgotten about those little toy mowers. My son enjoyed those much more than he's ever enjoyed the real thing.

And if his sisters insisted on putting him in makeup, nail polish and head scarves, I guess it is no real surprise that he would take a shining to pretty bikinis.... Ha ha! Bitchy brought in on herself!

LOVE the photos! "Golden Boy" reminds me so much of "My Boy Bryce"! And at 26, he STILL tortures his sisters. I don't think it will ever end. Just last week he had trapped a rat in our store. He picked it up and immediately brought it to his pregnant sister to scare her!! Hate to burst your bubble, but once a "Golden Boy", always a "Golden Boy"!!

Aw, thanks for sharing such great memories! :)Happy 12th bday to your young one. It's his last year of being a child...and then it's the teens and then he'll be graduating and leaving you before you know it! Oh, sniff, wait...that's my son....

I love the two piece. Boys with older sisters should have a club. I called my little brother, Matthew, Martha for a couple of years. And it took him that long to figure out that the games we played (dress up, going to the store, etc.) all involved him being a girl. I don't think he's forgiven me yet...

Never had a brother although, I could imagine if I did and I caught him in my bathing suit, I would not be a happy woman and would therefore run inside and put on jockstrap, oh wait, he would be too young to have one of those, well then I'd just be really pissed

Don't forget to tip the waitress. I really DO live on tips....

Cause I know you want to buy stuff...

About Me

I am a teacher, a writer, and the mother of three children. I've decided I'll never give up. No matter how many battles I lose; no matter how many tears I shed; no matter how many martinis I have to drink, I will continue to fight the good fight! I love to laugh, believe that every day is a new day, and thank God each morning that I am still here.